


three times

by casecous



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casecous/pseuds/casecous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a thin line between wanting to bruise him with her fist and wanting to bruise him with her lips. It’s infuriating and confusing, so she settles somewhere between the two and throws her tea on his shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three times

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from my tumblr. Assume Mikasa is older, I'm not sure of canon ages of anyone.

There is a thin line between wanting to bruise him with her fist and wanting to bruise him with her lips. It’s infuriating and confusing, so she settles somewhere between the two and throws her tea on his shirt.

It’s funny how the words ‘you’re mine’ sounded so spiteful coming out of her mouth, yet so possessive coming off his lips. She doesn’t agree, so she protests by pulling his head back by his hair, leaning close to his lips and whispering, “You wish.” Their eyes never falter; to do so would mean losing, and neither of them is ready to do that yet, but she can’t help but flinch as he raises his hand to twirl a strand of her hair with his fingers. He makes a ‘hmm’ sound from the back of his throat in response.

The first time it happens, they don’t think about it. Everyone else has thought about it for them enough, between the heated glances and the intimidation attempts, in which their lips and bodies are far too close to be interpreted as anything else. She enters his room without knocking, and when he opens his mouth to make a comment, she shuts him up by kissing him hard on the mouth and knocking him backwards onto the bed. “Not a word.” She knows she lost anyway.

The second time it happens, they’re walking in opposite directions when his eyes catch hers. He slams her against the wall and she pushes her hips against his in response. As he picks her up, she wraps her legs around him and he carries her to his room and shuts the door behind them. She lies on her back afterward, his fingers dancing at the hollow of her throat, and when he mutters, “You know what this means, don’t you?” she realizes, _Maybe we have to think about it._

The third time it happens, it’s different. He’s slow to undress her despite her impatient noises, and then he’s on his knees in supplication to kiss her knee gently, her thigh, her hipbone. And when he lays her back on the bed, the confident Mikasa Ackerman feels exposed. It’s not the first time he has made her feel this way, it’s not their usual competition for control, and she doesn’t know if she’s winning or losing. Her breath is shaky and she realizes she could easily change the feeling by flipping him over and fucking him into the bed. But his words break through her thoughts, his voice low in her ear, “Not everything has to be a fight, Ackerman.” And he’s wrong because everything is. It always has been, and he of all people should know that.

“Not this,” he tries again, because they’ve both been through enough of those. And she lets him take her under.


End file.
